Child of Spellcasters
by Rosabell
Summary: After being executed by the Pharaoh,the High Priest's soul came to the Realm of Feys,a world where spellcasters thrive but are threatened by the tensions between races.Here,Cobadra,the incarnation of Seto Kaiba has a great destiny...
1. Introduction

Child of Spellcasters

Introduction

Since the beginning of history in the mortal realm, humans have believed in magic, in supernatural forces that defy all logic and imagination. They imagined a few of their own to be able to communicate with these forces, use them, control them, and they have failed. It isn't because such forces do not exist. It is simply because these forces are at the mercy of other beings, beings that do not exist in this world.

The first Pharaoh of the Old Age managed, however, to summon some of the forces and create a new world where these forces are at his mercy. Because of the dark nature of this world, it was named the Shadow Realm, and at first only the royal family was capable of manipulating it. Gradually, as time went on, distant cousins married distant nobles, and this ability spread, giving birth to priests and servants of the Egyptian gods, some where even called Sorcerers.

But Sorcerers are not what mortals thought they were. They are actually a race of spellcasters from another realm, far different from what mortals believe. This realm has no name, but some refer to it as the Realm of the Feys.

There are many different types of races in the realm. Almost all creatures who live in this realm have some sort of power or ability, but there are three main spellcasters, classified thus for the simple reason that they are the only ones who cast spells. The three Spellcasters are the Elves, the Mages, and the Clerics.

Elves are unified—they have no further subdivisions beyond the general term when spells are involved, even though they can be identified from the different regions they dwell in. Elves were thought to be merely magical creatures because their abilities are mostly nature based, and it is unclear what they actually do. But what is certain, is that Elves use spells to create everything they have, such as weapons, dwellings, and even clothes.

The Mages, on the other hand, are classified to five different groups: Sorcerers, Enchanters, Deities, who became extinct a short time after they first appeared; Amazons, women warriors who disappeared (no one knows what happened to them or what they do), and Wizards. Sorcerers are the most powerful of nearly all Spellcasters except the Necromancers of the Clerics. They are both feared and envied not only because of their wondrous ability to manipulate magic, but also to create it. Sorcerers are responsible for all the magic in the realm and all creatures are directly or indirectly dependent upon them. Because of their powers, Sorcerers are few in number and for the most part infertile. They also die rather young.

Enchanters are the most dependent on Sorcerers than any other spellcaster, because they do not have any magic of their own. What they can do, however, is manipulate any magic or magical residue in their environment, making them as strong as the world around them. Often Enchanters carry items such as talismans and amulets, which store magical residue often left by Sorcerers, so if by chance the Enchanter requires magic but cannot draw it from their surroundings, the amulet and talisman serve as a source to draw magic from.

Wizards are the weakest of the Mages. Like Enchanters, they carry items to wield magic, but unlike Enchanters, they do have a magical core in their bodies. The difference is, Wizards must have a key to channel their magic in order to cast spells, therefore they must have an item to cast spells. Often, Wizards carry staffs, and Witches, their female counterparts, carry wands. Witches are often called Fairies if mortals should ever lay eyes on them, but Fairies are actually completely different beings and are not considered Spellcasters at all. Wizards often serve as counselors to others because of their lack of ability to do anything else, but they have keen vision and are very perceptive; it is rare for a Wizard to be wrong. Wizards are also quite rare, though not as rare as Sorcerers, but they live much longer, in fact some are thought to be immortal, though this was never proven.

Clerics are spellcasters who associate with other realms, mainly the dead realm. They are divided into three groups—the Druids, the Oracles, and the Necromancers. Druids are capable of changing the lines of Fate by manipulating the Cosmos; they can change the nature of any being they wish, turn them from evil to good, but because Druids cannot see what consequences would result, they normally refrain from using their powers.

Oracles are the weakest of the Clerics. They can do nothing but see into the future and into the past. But because they see more than anyone else, they are very well-informed, and often work with all other spellcasters, though mostly Druids and Wizards. Often Oracles associate with magical creatures such as pixies and unicorns, though this is very rare.

Necromancers are the most powerful of the Clerics. They control all the forces of the dead, and it is believed they are the dead themselves, for their number is exactly equal to that of Sorcerers and their nature mirrors their Mage-counterparts. Some believed Necromancers are Sorcerers resurrected, though this has never been proven and seems highly unlikely since Necromancers and Sorcerers have always had tense relationships. Necromancers have the power to heal and extremely powerful ones were thought to have the power to bring the dead back to life, though there was only one recording of this event and it is doubtful if the circumstances were factual.


	2. Prologue

Child of Spellcasters

Prologue

The Blue Oracle, clad in blue as her name, looked up from where she sat as a figure moved through the trees. She was having visions of today's encounter, but because she had been tired for the past few days she never really bothered to see who it was. From where she sat, it looked like a child, a young boy of about seven or eight.

"Wind drifts freely, but the trees don't lie. Why do you hide behind those who yet sing of you? Come to the wind, where the sun shines. I wish to see your face."

There was a brief pause, before the boy stepped out from behind the smooth trunk of the tree he had been hiding behind. He was young, a beautiful child, with fine features, brown hair and lovely blue eyes. He was thin and a little on the gaunt side, and would almost be sickly, but his eyes shone vividly as if they contain all the life in this world.

The Blue Oracle smiled. "What is your name, child of blue eyes?"

"Ss..." The boy paused. "I can't remember."

"Come here." The Blue Oracle answered. "Perhaps I can tell. The palm of a hand reveals many things."

The boy looked down at his hand, before stepping up hesitantly in front of her. The Blue Oracle took the child's hand, careful not to startle him, and began to read.

_He came from the mortal realm._ She saw with surprise. _He was a servant of a wielder of the Shadow. He wields the Shadow himself. A Priest, and a High One at that. The Dragon Tamer, the Orphan, the Wild One—Cunning and Intelligent, Lonely and Afraid. _She considered the boy briefly. _He died. He was killed by the Supreme Wielder, for treachery— he is not a bad person though...I wonder why. But he should have stepped into the Realm of the Dead. Why is he here?_

The Blue Oracle lifted her right arm and pulled the child gently to her lap. The boy did not pull back, but curled up to her willingly. The Blue Oracle hissed as a vision crossed her.

Seto Kaiba. The only one of them, whose spirit is intact. Wielder of the Millennium Rod. Doomed to be an Orphan in the Mortal Realm. The only one who is free from the Fate of the Pharaoh, and yet even he is not completely free. Loss has made him bitter, cruelty made him indifferent. Yet once he comes here, he'll get what he deserves...

The symbols of the spellcasters rolled across like a stream. She breathed in wonder as understanding dawned on her. She cradled the child's head, who was now looking at her in confusion.

"A young god," She said quietly, "With the craft of all spellcasters. You have quite a destiny, little one."

The child blinked, still confused. The Blue Oracle let him go. The blue-eyed child stepped back, not understanding.

"Your former name is not important." The oracle continued. "You deserve a new name, one that does not betray you and yet stays true to your form. You were a dragon tamer, and your eyes are blue. I think Cobadra will do, what do you think?"

The boy blinked in thought. "I don't care, Cobadra is Cobadra."

The Blue Oracle smiled. "You cannot stay here, this place is too confined. But I will find someone, someplace, where you will get the training you need. You have quite a destiny before you, little one."

Cobadra blinked, feeling a bit nervous now, but the oracle had returned to her hut. Uncertain, the boy decided to follow her in.

"Come, you must be hungry." The Blue Oracle told him. She set down several dishes and a bowl of soup in front of him. "I will be near, should you need anything." She left him.

Upstairs the oracle looked in the mirror. She was not looking at herself. She was looking at something of the past. A prophecy, foretold by the late Silver Oracle, a prophecy of the period when all magical races turn against each other and the realm falls to devastating depths. It would not be caused simply by one person, indeed, few wars really are, but there will be one person who can stop it all, when properly trained. He will die, saving this world, just as he had died in the mortal realm, and will cross over as Seto Kaiba. But fortunately, he would not be there for long, and when he returns, he will return to find a welcoming world of peace, a grateful world, a world where his soul can finally rest.

Not long by their standards anyway.

There will be trouble ahead, for both Cobadra and Seto. Both will find loneliness. Alienation. Loss. In the end though...

In the end all would be worthwhile, unless some Druid interferes. But Druids rarely do, and Cobadra himself is a Druid, with a Druid's hand and an Oracle's eye, powers unimaginable even to the supernatural.

"He'll be fine." She said to herself, trying to smile. Somehow it didn't sound very convincing, not because she believed Cobadra would not live up to his best, or the other spellcasters would not live up to theirs. Somehow she felt, perhaps, as Cobadra's soul will grow old, the wounds will never quite heal enough for him to find true happiness. Perhaps it would be too late?

But the mirror showed no more. The prophecy shows the path, not where it leads. There is a lot more to life than just saving the world, the Forces, if there are, could not care less if Oracles and Necromancers still exist. They certainly did not shed a tear when the Deities faded from the world. They would not weep for the loss of one child, as powerful as he promises to be.

The Blue Oracle turned from the mirror. What happens next is beyond her hands. For now, the child must be fed. He has had a long journey from the deserts of the Mortal Realm to the forests of Fey. He has been wounded in life by many sorrows. It is her job to find him somewhere to live, to train. The Oracle ran it over her head. Who should do it first? Someone kind. Someone compassionate, yet experienced in spells. Someone who would love the child, someone who will devote their full time and energy to taking care of him.

Cobadra had finished eating some time ago and was waiting for her with nervous eyes. It would not do to let everyone know who he is, he is too weak, too frightened. Perhaps...

"Come, Cobadra." She told the boy. "I want you to meet someone."


	3. The Light of Childhood

Child of Spellcasters

The Light of Childhood

"Col!" Aquila called out to the eight-year-old, "You can't wander out too far in the woods! Stay within the boundaries!"

"I am within the boundaries." Cobadra sighed. His hair is long enough to be braided, Aquila noticed, not that she wanted to bother. The boy hates having his hair braided, and announces it each time. Aquila was a good Sorceress, but Cobadra is even better a Sorcerer, despite only learning with her for one year. He was very intelligent, very cunning, and very serious at times, but very loving and warm. He was what Aquila always wanted.

Being a Sorceress, Aquila was infertile and often despaired of ever having children. When the famed Blue Oracle brought Cobadra in, Aquila felt it was the best day of her life. Cobadra was so small then though, almost sickly, and very shy. He had taken a long time to adjust to her, Aquila was patient and affectionate and Cobadra quickly warmed up to her. Right now, Cobadra was a vision of wildness, his silky-brown and shoulder-length hair curling all over the place and covered with leaves and flower pollen. He was tall for his age, and slender, but she knew Cobadra would be stunning once he nears his majority.

He's not stunning now though.

"Mom!" Cobadra whined. "I promise I won't get into trouble."

"You said that last time when I had to heal your scraped knee." Aquila folded her arms. "Besides, it's going to rain soon—no, you may not interfere with the weather. The last time you did that you nearly killed yourself—you're not that good a Sorcerer yet. Get inside the house."

Cobadra frowned. He liked the wilderness. The trees, the wind, the waters, they speak to him, and tell him stories. Unlike Mom's old house.

"Col," Aquila began warningly. "If you don't come now, I'll do the _ritual_."

Col immediately hurried over to the house near his mother's side.

"I know you like the wilderness, Col." Aquila shut the door behind them. "It's too dangerous these days. How about this, you can go to the library for now, and tomorrow I'll take you to the Fort."

"Really?" Col cried. "Promise?"

"Unless you are naughty." Aquila smiled as Col whooped and ran upstairs to the library—his second favorite place.

The Fort, as it was called, was not really as much of a fort as it is a center or a mall. There is a fence around it, but no wall. Col never went there much, because it is a place where Mages visit each other or rest if they are traveling. The Blue Oracle had warned Aquila that for the sake of Cobadra's safety, she best not allow him to meet too many children. Nevertheless, it is impossible to completely confine such a wonderful lad, and Col made many close friends, several of which he went to their homes or brought to Aquila's dwelling. Aquila never rested well when Col was out, but everything appeared to be fine, and it's good for the child to associate with others of his own age.

Aquila smiled, shaking her head, and followed Col up to the library. Col really was amazing. He could read and write in ten different languages, even Elvish, though he can't speak it. Aquila had more books than any other spellcaster, besides Elves who keep to themselves, in the county, but Col zoomed through the library like a breeze through branches and had almost read every book she had, other than books on Wizardry and Divination.

Col was curled up on the couch with a book on Wizardry—he curiously avoided Divination books, and Aquila sat down beside him. Col immediately snuggled up against her.

Aquila ran her hand through Col's brown locks and smoothed it out, picking out the leaves that Col had missed before coming to the library. "You are a miracle." She said to him.

Col smiled and looked at her. Aquila never understood that look. Col gave it to her every time she said that, and it looked something like ' _You are my miracle too.'_ But it was always linked to something dark, something fearful, something Col did not want to mention. Perhaps something about his past? Aquila couldn't tell.

"Mom, why are wizards so old all the time?" Col asked.

Aquila laughed. " They age slowly, and the live a long time. But wizards aren't always old; there are a couple of young ones from time to time, even children. Who knows, maybe you will meet a few tomorrow."

Col beamed. "Can I ask them why they always look so old?"

"No."

"Oh." Col pouted.

"It's rude." Aquila pointed out. "You think they appreciate looking old all the time? They're not like us, they don't die very early, and they don't keep their youth like us either. Would you be happy if someone asked you why you never live long?"

Cobadra pondered and grunted in agreement. "I guess."

Aquila smoothed out his hair. "Come on. How about I make some tea, and we can sit here and read."

"Yeah!" Cobadra laughed.

The Fort was alive and blooming that day, with the flower trees being tended by the enchanters. Col laughed beside his mother as he took in the scene. Little has changed; the shops and the inns were all the same.

Far into the distance, near one of the shops, Col spotted a boy with black hair and blue eyes, tall and dark and big.

"Goth!" Col cried.

Goth, whose real name was Gothran, turned at the sound of the call and beamed when he saw Cobadra.

"Col!" He shouted. "I had a feeling that you would come today! How come your mom never lets you come more often?"

Col frowned. "She's mean."

Goth laughed. "I was hoping you would come today. There's a festival in the afternoon, and people are preparing the food. Maybe we can steal some before it begins!"

Aquila shuddered. " No, Col. You may not steal food."

Col, who had beamed at the thought of mischief, immediately sobered in disappointment. " Mom, it's just a little fun! Besides, we take them anyway during the festival. We are staying for the festival, right?"

"Yes, all the more reason why it's pointless for you to steal the food before it's ready. What if it's not cooked enough yet?"

Col and Goth winced at the thought of the possibility of eating raw meat or eggs.

"Can we go to the smithy?" Goth asked. "Dad said I could try out a new sword since I'm growing out of my old one."

Aquila blinked. " Why not. I have the mind to refurnish my sword, which I brought with me. Perhaps Col here would find something he's interested in."

"Yeah!" Col cried happily. "Come on!" The children went.

The shop was open, and smelled of metals. Col rushed with Aquila immediately to the swords.

"When can I get that one?" Col whined, looking down at his small size. Aquila cocked an eyebrow.

"You're still growing." She told Col. "Maybe when you're fifteen or so."

"That long?" Col sighed. Aquila smiled. "Did it seem very long between when we first met to today?"

Col frowned. "Not really."

"Just imagine about three of those." Aquila smiled again. "Besides, maybe by the time you're fifteen, Darion will have better ones."

Darion, the enchanter who owned the shop, laughed. Col looked at the sword. "But that's so mine. It's blue, and it has a dragon on the blade and hilt. Cobalt Dragon."

"It is a rather unique sword." Darion nodded. He was a young man, about thirty years of age, with brown hair and brown eyes. He wore an amulet around his neck, a rather small one, since the Fort is a good enough environment to cast spells without an item. "It will never break, and never need to be sharpened either, since it is so sharp already. The dragon is engraved with a real dragon's scale, so some of its invincibility is infused into the sword. Alas, it has sat here for quite a while."

"Why is that?" Aquila asked.

"This sword has the mind of a dragon." The blacksmith answered. "It will harm all but the worthy. The master of the master of my master created this, and it has been bought many times. Luckily, it never went as far as to kill someone, but it has wounded many of its purchasers. It would be wise if you do not buy this, if for your own sake."

"Mind of a dragon?" Col was not impressed. "I have seen many with a _mind _of a dragon." The words confused Aquila a little, since Col was never really out very much, and the few children he did see were not quite as robust as a dragon. "I want to try it out."

"That won't do." Aquila snapped immediately. "Especially not when you aren't fully trained, young as you are. I'll see a Necromancer wield that before you lay your hands on it."

"But Mom, they called me the—"Something made the child snap his mouth closed before he revealed what _they_, whoever they were, called him. Aquila frowned.

Goth was getting impatient, and he was not obsessed over swords like Col.

"Let's go see the knives and daggers, at least we're strong enough for those."

Col relented, although Aquila noted, with her motherly instinct, that the child was not extremely happy with leaving the sword. It must have something to do with the boy's past. She made a note to herself to ask the Blue Oracle later on.

Goth's father came along, and at the sight of Aquila, beamed.

" Water Star!" He called to her. "I haven't seen you here for quite a while, the hermit that you are! And there is Col; he's growing to be a fine young lad. How have things been?"

"The usual. Although there are always adventures when a young one is around." Aquila smiled adoringly at her boy. _Her _boy.

"Aye, that is for sure." Goth's father laughed in agreement. "Have you consulted the Oracle this month?" It was a tradition for Mages to consult the Oracle once every three or four months, but because Aquila was still in the dark about her little one, she usually consulted the Oracle about once a month. No one thought any of it; it was agreed that Col, sweet as he is, can be quite strange at times.

"Yes. All seems to be well. For Col at least."

"Not well for you then," Mirwak frowned,

"No, it's not that." Aquila answered. "The Oracle said that times are darkening. Col is not in danger yet, but others may be."

Mirwak frowned again. Such things are not talked of lightly, but all Mages and Clerics sensed that something was amiss. Who knows what the Elves were doing, but times were indeed darkening. There are disagreements starting between the Clerics and the Mages, mostly with the Druids and the Wizards. Tension between Necromancers and Sorcerers was natural, so no one thought anything of it, but Druids and Wizards have always been at peace, if not friendly. Some Enchanters say that Elves are becoming restless as well, appearing outside their borders to challenge travelers who "trespassed". The Fort and the dwellings around it are fairly sheltered, with only one Cleric who all the Mages respected and protected. The Blue Oracle was the most powerful Oracle in the realm, other than the Red and Gold Oracles. If she said times are darkening, one can be sure danger is on its way.

"Well, as long as Col is fine, eh?" Mirwak smiled good-naturedly. "That boy of yours has always been good luck." It was true. Ever since Cobadra came, the village has been thriving. Aquila smiled.

The boys had suddenly gone quiet—or rather, Col suddenly went quiet. Aquila turned in worry. Goth was calling to Col.

"Col? Is everything okay? Col? It's just a dagger, nothing more. You've seen daggers before Col! Why are you so scared?"

Col didn't answer. Instead, he threw the dagger away from him, sheath and all, as if it were poison, and with a heave and sob ran whimpering towards his mother, clinging on to her as if he had just been burned. Goth picked up the dagger, making sure it wasn't damaged, and held it out to Darion, who was frowning not in anger, but in confusion.

Aquila studied the dagger as she crooned to her boy and tried to soothe him. It was an odd looking dagger, the hilt was gold and had something that looked like a crudely made Eye on it. In fact, it wasn't as much of a dagger as it was a knife, used for cutting meat. It was not particularly sharp, and it looked quite harmless. But whatever it brought up in Col's young mind frightened the child terribly, for the little body was trembling madly and tears were flowing down his cheeks in streams.

The Blue Oracle studied the drawing of both the sword and the strange dagger as Aquila waited nervously. Col had gone to Goth's dwelling and Mirwak's care, leaving her the freedom to come to the Oracle once again. The child had recovered quickly and had been his cheerful and inquisitive self once again. But he refused to touch the dagger.

"It is time that you know more about the nature of where Cobadra came from and his past." The Blue Oracle began, with some weariness.

Aquila waited nervously.

"Cobadra is not a normal sorcerer, this you know. What you do not know is, he _was _not a sorcerer. Cobadra came from the mortal realm, where creatures are chained to the earth and eyes are blind. His homeland was the Land of Golden Reeds, a kingdom where all is rich and all revere the Sun. His past name, we need not know, for his name was what doomed him. But he last his family at the age of eight, and wandered before coming to the palace of the King—the Pharaoh."

"Pharaoh." Aquila blinked. "The King that manipulates the Shadow Realm?"

"It is he." The oracle nodded. "The child learned the arts of what they called Shadow Magic, becoming the High Priest, and reigned supreme over all the Dragons of the realm, hence giving him the name ' Dragon Tamer'."

The Oracle slid the picture of the blue sword to Aquila.

"The blacksmith was correct." She continued. "The sword is called Dracor; Dragon Core. It, like any powerful and mighty sword, has a heart of its own, and its heart is that of a dragon. Carved out of a dragon's scale, carved with a dragon's scale, it is pure dragon, and very rare. Only one with the will that reigns supreme over dragons can wield it."

"He thinks he is the Dragon Tamer then." Aquila said quietly.

"No." The Oracle shook her head. "He _knows _he is the Dragon Tamer. Dragons of the Shadow Realm are no different from the dragons here. He is a dragon himself; some called him Dragon's Eye for his blue eyes, others call him Dragon's Song for the will he puts behind his voice. It would do well for him to have this sword, my child, and all its relative blades."

Aquila nodded. " Then what is he doing here, if he came from the mortal realm?"

"That is the explanation for this." The Blue Oracle laid her hand on the scroll with the dagger. "Cobadra was an orphan, and thought like one. The Pharaoh presented to the boy a magic item, called the Millennium Rod, as a token as well as a symbol of Cobadra's loyalty to the royal family, when the child was sixteen years old. The rod was a small dagger fit into a tunneled sheath, with an Eye of a god not unlike the Eye you see on this dagger. To a dragon like your son, loyalty meant slavery, especially loyalty that is sealed and expected. Dragons can be loyal, but only to those they deem deserving of it. The Pharaoh demanded unconditional loyalty, which Cobadra gave up till that point, and as both a dragon and an orphan, Cobadra was afraid. This fear grew to terror, and terror to madness, as the Pharaoh disregarded the boy's thoughts for the sake of his country—the right thing to do as a Pharaoh, but not the right thing to do as a friend. In the end, Cobadra betrayed the Pharaoh, and was met with death. But his soul is too powerful, and instead of departing into either the Shadow Realm or that of the dead, Cobadra came here seeking sanctuary and love."

The Oracle stood up, sighing. "Cobadra does not remember everything. But even now, the memory of the Rod is strong within him. To him, to the High Priest, the rod was a symbol of defeat, of his orphaned state, of his loneliness, enslavement, alienation. It represented all his fears and doubts, all his failed hopes and longings, all the hatred towards him in the end and eventually, his death. The sight of the dagger reminded him of a distant past where he was alone and no one cared to give him a second chance. As a soul who suffered such wounds, he immediately remembered you, and his first and most powerful fear was of losing you, either by death or by alienation."

"I would never do that to him!" Aquila cried, standing up angrily. "How could he think such a thing?"

"That is why he recovered so quickly." The Oracle smiled at her. "He knows you would never hurt him. He knows you are powerful. He trusts you. He loves you. But the wounds of his past leave deep scars, and they will reveal themselves."

Aquila sighed.

"The Pharaoh was not a bad man." The Oracle answered her thoughts. "Nor was he a bad king. He simply did not understand the High Priest as a real friend should, and indeed, how can a king be like a normal friend? It is not the Pharaoh's cruelty that hurt Cobadra so deeply. It is the Pharaoh's lack of trust, willingness to suspect, willingness to believe that the boy has ill intentions that injured the boy. The rod was not given to the Priest in the name of friendship and trust. It was given in suspicion. The Pharaoh wanted to test the boy, make sure he is loyal, and that was what made Cobadra feel so cornered."

"Well," Aquila began after a pause, with a determined air, "I promised Col he can start over with me. A clean slate. A fresh start. That he will have. I won't bother with this Pharaoh King or his poor Rod. He is Col, he is my son, he is a Sorcerer, and that is that."

"He is not a sorcerer." The Blue Oracle interrupted. Aquila gaped at the woman, not understanding.

"But...he...he could cast spells just like—"

"That is because he is a Sorcerer."

"But you said—"

"He is more than a Sorcerer."

Aquila blinked. " You mean...he's a mix?"

The Oracle smiled. It was not a happy smile, more serious and thoughtful.

"Of what? How can a soul from the mortal realm be a mix?"

"Fate has great plans for him." The Oracle answered. "And for once, Fate's will rules stronger than the Druids. Your son is a mix of all living spellcasters, Water Star."

"All living spell—" Aquila choked in surprise, "I don't understand—"

"He has the powers of all the spellcasters, which is why he is not just a Sorcerer."

"But how is that possible?" Aquila felt bewildered. "The most one can have is three races, and more would have been suppressed!"

"Fate planned great things for him." The woman answered. "He has the full powers of every spellcaster. Including Necromancers."

Aquila froze, stunned. Her son, a Necromancer?

"Do not abandon him, Water Star."

"Who said I was going to?" Aquila snapped unhappily. She was not worried about her son being a Necromancer so much as her son being accepted by other Necromancers, Enchanters, Wizards, Druids...

"Oh my..." she breathed. She could not believe that her little boy was all of these.

Cobadra was blissfully unaware of his identity, content to believe he is simply a talented sorcerer, and also content to mourn the loss of _his _sword. He had no idea where the name ' Dragon Tamer' came from, only that it was his name and was rightfully given to him. That someone should suggest he did not have enough will to tame a dragon, even one carved into a sword, is enough to ruffle his feathers a great deal, and Cobadra was always a competitive child, quick to rise to selective challenges when it comes to the competing intelligence and skill.

That was his sword, and he'll get it someday.

"On the bright side," Goth tried to comfort his friend, "No one will buy it since it's so dangerous, so you won't run the risk of someone else buying it before you."

Col nodded. That was the only bright side, as Goth put it.

Col dressed after he washed and went over to his mother's room. Aquila was undoing her hair when he entered, and turned around as he came in.

"Want some chocolate tea?" She asked.

"Sure." Col shrugged. Aquila waved her hand, murmuring a brief command. "Tea, chocolate, two, biscuits." The top of the table shimmered.

"Mom," Col sat down on the bed, "When I grow up, do you think I can get that sword?"

"Maybe." Aquila said without much hesitation. "You are a tough dragon yourself. I won't be surprised if you can charm the sword to follow you."

"You visited the Blue Oracle again?" Col pouted.

"Did you _really _want to go?" His mother pointed out. "You were having so much fun with Goth. Besides, the Oracle didn't exactly tell me anything happy."

"Bad news?"

"Not really."

"Then how is it not happy?"

"Just because it's not happy doesn't mean it has to be bad news. It's just not interesting for a kid like you, sweetheart." Aquila began braiding her hair.

"She told you about my past."

"How did you—" As Aquila turned, she noticed Col had a terrified expression." Col?"

"Mom?!" Col's voice was high and shaky. Aquila hurried to him.

"Col, what's wrong?"

"Mom, there's..."

"What is it, Col?" Aquila was confused.

"There's a...there's an old man..." Col held up a hand and pointed over his mother's shoulder.

Aquila turned around, ready to defend her son, but there was nothing there. The frightened look on her son's face was unmistakable though, and she turned back to him.

"Col, darling, tell me what's wrong, what do you see? What old man?"

"He's right there!" Col shrieked. "He's right there, and he's—Mom, don't let him get me! Don't let him get me!!" The child clung onto Aquila tightly and buried his face in her bosom. Aquila paused as a strange chill passed through her body. Sorcerers cannot sense the dead, but Aquila was certain this was nothing but. She patted her son's back soothingly, rocking him back and forth.

"It's nothing dear. It's just a ghost. It won't hurt you." _Because you are a Necromancer._ "Besides, Mommy's here to protect you." _Against any Necromancer who dares to use any ghost, old or young, to hurt my baby!_

She sighed. Col has a great destiny. Aquila can train him in the arts of Sorcery, but what about Necromancy? Druidism? Wizardry? Enchantment?

He'll have to be trained. Aquila realized for the first time that her son must leave her, if only for a few years, but Sorcerers don't live long, and who knows if she'll ever see him again once he leaves? She won't let him go out alone. No, she won't. Not when he has a past of that nature. Most children wait until they're twelve before they start training. Col knows Sorcery, so he can wait for the others. Or, she can ask someone from the Fort, to teach him Magus Arts.

Sooner or later though, little Col will have to leave. Aquila shut her eyes. Col had calmed down against her, though he was still breathing heavily.

"It's okay, Mommy's here..."


	4. Joys of Adolescence

Child of Spellcasters

Joys of Adolescence

" _Hai! _Take that!" Cobadra swung the blade down with a graceful arc over his opponent's head. Inflar simply ducked.

" That one nearly took my head off." The boy huffed, as he readied his battle stance. Col gave him a sheepish grin.

" I expected you to duck." He apologized. Inflar stabbed the sword towards him. Col swung to the side.

" _That _one nearly took out my heart."

" So we're even then."

" Move your feet, In!" Goth shouted from the trees where he was eating lunch. " You're like an old tree with deep roots."

" Shut your trap Goth." In called back, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Ever since they turned twelve and began training, the three of them were inseparable. Inflar was a mix of Enchanter and Wizard, a boy with red hair and red eyes and quite terrible to look at because of his demonic-like appearance, while Gothran was a mix of Sorcerer and Enchanter. The three were the only mixes in their year, and took classes together and trained together, mostly in martial arts.

The art of Sword Dancing is especially important in the magical community. Often the level of magic in a being is inbred and not acquired, therefore making duels unfair. Physical combat is not inbred, and therefore shows the individual's true character—his intelligence, motivation, endurance, and patience. Duels always start with swords, and may progress with spears, and if it is a duel to the death, anyone who wins the sword can use both weapons and magic, while the loser may only use weapons. A battle of any sort must start with swords, follow the rules, or pay the penalty. No one is sure what the penalty is, or who gives the penalty, since everyone followed the rule strictly to the letter, and no one wanted to know what the penalty is.

" Butterfingers!" Col danced away as the sword came twirling in his direction as In lost his hold on it.

" Ow!" Inflar glanced at his wrist ruefully. " I think I sprained it."

" Oh come on." Col sighed as he went over. " Want me to heal it for you?"

" It's your fault." In held it out. Col brushed his fingers lightly on the skin and Inflar shook his wrist, nodding with approval.

Goth clapped from the branch. " Smooth, In, very smooth."

" I would like _you _to go against Col!" In snapped, immediately shutting Goth up. Everyone in the Fort knew how well Aquila, Col's mother, wielded the sword. Col seemed to have taken this particular trait from her. No one was sure where he got his Enchanter and Wizard trait from though.

" Stop being such a sore loser." Goth answered after a moment's hesitation. He made a pose as if he were a girl. " Oh Col!" He stated in a high, girlish voice, " You made me sprain my wrist! Heal it for me, pretty please? Pretty pretty please?"

In responded by tilting his head, and the tree branch that was supporting Goth suddenly bent down, sending Goth tumbling to the ground. Col began laughing at the sight of Goth in such a sorry predicament.

The Enchanter-Sorcerer got up a little miffed, throwing a dirty look at In, but the three were such good friends that such things were never taken heavily.

Cobadra had grown much taller and was the tallest of his friends. He was also the youngest, younger than Goth by four months and Inflar by six. Perhaps the lasting youth of the enchanter and the long life of a wizard also runs in his veins, for though he was tall, he was thin and had a face of a child. A child's face on a tall body. There was also a kind of fairness about him, almost elvish, but everyone simply guessed it was just chance. After all, they say, you can only be a mix of three, and Cobadra was already a Wizard-Enchanter-Sorcerer.

There was a frailty in his body. Out of the three, Cobadra always tires first. But while his endurance is low, everything else was high. He was quick and nimble, a prodigy at swords and knowledge, a healer, a warrior, a sage. The frailty people accepted—Cobadra was too powerful in magic, he has to sacrifice something. If it is strength, then so be it. Besides, if ever he should fall due to that weakness, his friends will stand beside him. They always have.

Goth was as tall as In, and the strongest of the three when it comes to endurance. He did not have a child's face like Col, because he has no Wizard-blood, but his face was definitely not that of an adult. All three were only fourteen, and even sorcerers live to be a hundred and fifty. Goth was adept at the sword, but his true talent lies in the spear, and when he wields it, Col stands no chance. And because Goth can fight longer, in long duels Goth usually wins, and alternate between winning and losing with Col depending on when spears are involved.

Inflar descended from the Scarlet Oracle, who died many centuries ago, a misfortune since Oracles are immortal. Therefore, In has some ability of premonition and can read minds. He is adept at both sword and spear, but stellar at archery, which Col was only moderately good at and Goth terribly pathetic. He is very powerful as a Wizard, and his chosen staff is very rare and valuable. Inflar is quick to get angry, and should his anger cause him to wield his staff, even Col is cautious.

" Cheap shot!" Goth cried, pulling dark leaves out of his braids. In just sniffed, feeling content with that, and Goth came over to the two grumbling.

The sound of a horn rang in the distance.

" Oh no!" Col hissed in regret. " They are going to have our heads for being late _again!_"

" Especially your mom!" In started running towards the horn. The two friends followed him.

" Why is your mom always so protective of you anyway?"

" Who knows? She's a sorceress, you know how sorceresses are, can't have children often, so all children are precious to them." Col jumped over a fallen branch. " She even took five years off teaching to raise me. Wouldn't want that to go to waste."

" My parents are like that too," Goth decided running in the trees would be faster, and leaped onto the branches. " But they're not nice like your mom. Everyone's nice to you—you're the only one that might not get penalized for being late all the time."

" It's because of my good looks." Col smirked. " I'm the most handsome of us three!"

" Of course not!" In called from ahead, " I'm the most handsome!"

" Except when you wear red!" Col laughed, deciding to follow his friends into the trees. The Fort came into view, with dozens of young Mages standing in the courtyard, as if…

As if they were waiting for them.

" They are going to have our heads, they are going to have our heads," Col burst out of the trees, did a perfect quadruple flip, and landed in front of his friends…and in front of Aquila.

" Where were you?" Aquila asked sternly, her eyes sharp and hard.

" Uh," Col fumbled for words, " In and I were…well, _practicing—"_

" You were dueling again, weren't you?"

" Er…kind of."

" How many times do I have to tell you, never leave the boundaries of the Fort alone?" Aquila looked at the three boys. " These are not peaceful times. It seems light and happy now, but there is war coming, you can almost taste it. Now get in line! You, Inflar Mondain, join your group. I'm ashamed of you all."

Goth was not that bothered with that. Aquila says it so many times that Goth basically ignores it. He hears it from his parents too, too many times. But Col was a little regretful, uncomfortable with the idea of making his mother angry, and did not smile when Goth punched his shoulder as they stepped in line with the rest of the Sorcerers.

" First exercise," Aquila said to the Sorcerers, " The Swordless Warm-up Routine. One, Two!"

Something exploded near the east gate. Col's eyes went wide as he looked at his mother, confirming with his expression as well as his posture that he was the one who did it.

" Now why didn't you practice _that _instead of dueling when you went out?" Aquila sighed. The other Sorcerers laughed, and Col blushed. He was not a bad student, and other children respected him, acknowledging him for his intelligence, but Col nearly always explodes something in the Swordless Warm-up Routine. It inspired awe more than scorn, however, as only someone extremely powerful would be able to unleash their magic like that.

One of the Enchanter Masters put the fire out, giving an annoyed but not at all surprised look at Aquila, who deftly ignored it.

" One Two!" She started again. A stamping of feet answered as the young Mages got into their hand and feet positions. " Arc, Forward, Out! Flick! Shove, and Down! One, two, arc, forward, out! Flick, shove, down!"

The pattern was repeated as she sped it up, and the students following her accordingly. Col did nothing wrong until the end, where he placed his foot too forcefully on the ground and punched a big hole in it, revealing a nest of very irritated muskrats. The students took incredulous looks at the hole and couldn't even find the voice to laugh.

" You'll have to watch that in a real duel." Aquila while using her magic to recover the hole said for what must have been the millionth time, " The opponent might accuse you of breaking the rules."

" But I don't do that with anything else, just the warm-up." It was true. Col looked at his friend for help, but Goth simply shook his head, unable to make anything of this.

" Col, you really did it this time." Goth sniggered. " But I suppose now they know where these creatures came from, and why they couldn't seem to get rid of them."

The students in the courtyard already did the sword and spear routine in the morning, and the swordless warm-up routine was a requirement before starting anything, so after all the Masters finished with all the warm-up routines, the students scattered to their respective lessons. Col and Goth both have Sorcery, with a Master named Malcri. Col then has Wizardry with In, and finally he and Goth have Enchantment.

Col and Goth changed from their warrior robes to Sorcerer robes, while In changed into his Enchanter attire.

" What happened this time?" In asked. " I didn't see what was going on, but Kyaok told me you solved the muskrat problem?"

Col blushed. " I stepped too hard."

" Oh, that." In rolled his eyes while Goth sniggered, " You are going to make a volcano right in the middle of the Fort one day."

" Doesn't seem too improbable with how things are going." Col answered, tying the sash around him. He pulled at his hair. " What's with all the beads and braids and little ribbons? I hate these things."

" Your fault you're a mix of all three Mages." In answered.

" And they get all tangled too!" Col groaned, pulling free a braid at last to rebraid it, " Why can we just tie all our hair together and be done with? That would be much more convenient."

" Who said they're trying to be convenient?" Goth pointed out. He polished his talisman, even though he was taking Enchantment after his break, " The talk of legends just flushes all ideas of convenience out of these old men and women."

" Come, let's go." In called to them. " I'm going up to Enchantment now if you don't hurry."

" You can go without us." Goth called. In shrugged and went up. " Need help?"

" I think I got it." Col answered. " I hope. There, that's better. Let's go."

oO

It was late at night when lessons finished, as always. The three friends gathered their horses to start home. Col owned Frost, a white mare, a gentle and well-natured steed only to Col, who Col pampered and pampered Col in return; she never lets anyone ride her but him, and when he does makes his ride smooth and quiet. The two seem to almost understand each other's language, something both Inflar and Goth were envious of.

Goth owned Myst, a black stallion, with a white star and white hooves. The stallion was majestic and proud, and seemed to be courting Frost even though Frost showed no interest. Myst often gave Goth trouble, but several times when Goth needed companionship in place of his Mage friends, Myst never failed to bring cheerfulness to his master.

In's Flame was a curious horse. Red like his name, Flame was known to untie knots and slipping halters and bridles off. It was not a custom to use magic to restrain horses, yet nothing short of it could restrain Flame. The beast never did anything else to bother In, but sometimes when In needed to get home, he wound up having to ride double with Goth, as Frost refused to let In ride her, even with Col.

Aquila had already gone home, having finished her classes long before her son. Col rode leisurely down the path, consulting with his friends whether they should come over to one of their dwellings.

" What's wrong with books?" Col defended. " There is absolutely nothing wrong with books. Books let you learn."

" Which is what's wrong with books, Saucy chap." In pointed out. " Don't you think we've had enough of learning at the Fort already?"

" They only teach you stuff you don't need to know." Col smiled good-naturedly, and Goth and In agreed that was the only sensible thing Col has said so far.

" But come, surely my place is not so dull as to have only the library as a place of interest!"

" Col my friend, I am sorry to say this, so I'll make it short and blunt." Goth took a deep breath, as if to prepare for a speech. " Your place is boring."

" Aye to that." In raised his hand.

" It's two against one, Col. You are interesting and all, but nothing short of absolute dullness can describe your home. Come over Col, you can send a message to your mom and tell her you are staying with us."

Col hesitated, before fumbling with the reins to reach into his bag. Pulling out a string, he looped it, crystallizing it into Goth's name, and blew with his mouth. The string disappeared.

" Smooth." Goth commented appreciatively.

" That is because I am a genius." Col laughed.

The night was quiet, the sky was sparkling with stars, and the forest held the rustling of the wind and what night creatures had come out. Col smiled, feeling content, though a shadow of a memory of a night not quite unlike this one loomed at the back of his mind. In this memory, he was with a company of far less trustworthy friends, frightened and yet not daring to show it. Col shook his head.

" What are you shaking your head for?" In asked.

" Just…I had another one of…those."

" Those." In understood. Goth sighed.

" When is that Oracle planning to tell you about your past?" Goth asked. " You pop out of nowhere, with almost no memory. According to your mother, that Blue Dragon of yours is linked to what you were. You were…the Dragon Tamer, was it?"

" That's all I can remember," Col shrugged, as they turned left at the fork on the road towards Goth's dwelling, " And some sort of spellcaster, maybe, since I _was _working magic. Only I was older, taller, and…alone."

" Well you won't be alone as long as we're here." This was another reason why both Goth and Inflar were so protective of Col. From his mysterious past, the two friends could only gather that Col was once an orphan, and whatever friends he had had turned on him. Of course, it may be possible that Col had turned on his friends, but Goth and In immediately disregarded that. Once they are fifteen, the three plan to perform the Bonding Ritual that would mark them as almost blood brothers.

" Did you have a headache like you use to?" Goth continued.

" No."

" That's good at least." In smiled, reaching out and patting Col on the arm from his mount. " We can practice archery in Goth's yard."

" Archery." Col groaned. " But my beautiful books!" He gave a dramatic sigh.

" You might get worse headaches if you read." Goth pointed out. " Especially since you had a vision at night, there is no doubt you'll be having nightmares."

" Oh," Col thumped on the mare, who nickered with disapproval. Col rubbed that place comfortingly. " Sorry Frost." A snort.

Goth's dwelling could be seen now, and the three quickened their mounts to a trot down the shallow valley. Light did not pass the windows, nor did the smell of food.

" It's either they used a spell or they're not at home. That's odd, they never used spells," Goth tested the windows with his Enchanter's senses. " They used spells."

There was a terrifying crack, and it seemed a veil was thrown over the boys, a pitch black veil that blocked everything out. There was a high-pitched scream, a shriek like that of a mighty bird, and the earth rocked beneath their feet as the environment moved and swirled into a mess of energy and life. Col shouted and grabbed Goth's hand, holding out his staff so In could hold on, and yelled. He could almost feel the ghosts circling them, changing into plasma to form a shield around the three. All was suddenly quiet, and the ghosts were gone. Col opened his eyes only to close them again as he sank down from exhaustion, unconscious.


	5. The Start of a Journey

Child of Spellcasters

The Start of a Journey

_Deserts, sand, wind and clouds. Rivers flowing to canals. Flowers, sun, tombs and reeds, dancers, farmers, bowls with seeds. A dagger from a red-eyed king, a blade…_

" Col! Col, please, say something!"

Col moaned, shifting his body, and felt pain explode in every region. He moaned again.

" Easy now, just open your eyes Col,"

Col obliged, and found it was unfortunately morning. The sunlight hurt his retinas, and he squeezed them shut again.

" He's awake." He heard someone say. " I think he may have a concussion."

" Here." A gentle hand slid behind his head. There was a warmth, a healing warmth, and the headache was gone. The hand moved back, and his whole body felt warm before the pain went as well. Col opened his eyes.

Goth looked haggard, pale and bleeding. Inflar was not much better, but Goth looked far worse.

" What happened?" Col asked.

" There was an attack." Inflar answered. " By the Druids and Necromancers."

Col blinked. They were heading to Goth's dwelling. They were heading to Goth's dwelling, but never really got there.

Goth!

" What happened?" Col cried, sitting up abruptly. " Are they…"

" They're fine." Goth answered. " Just…"

Before his friend could finish, a high whinny from Myst signaled someone's arrival. Goth's father, Mirwak, stepped over what was left of the trees. Col looked at the damage around him. Everything was destroyed.

" Is he alright?" Mirwak asked.

Goth nodded, almost hesitantly. Col got to his feet. " What happened exactly?"

" There were disagreements." Mirwak said slowly. " Apparently, the Druids and the Necromancers weren't satisfied with their end of the deal. They attacked the Fort, many were killed, and also the surrounding areas."

" Mother!" Col suddenly cried, running up to Mirwak, alarmed now, " Is she alright?"

Mirwak looked down, and his posture said it all.

" No…" Col breathed, and began trembling. " She's not…she can't be…she's so powerful, she always told me stories about how she outwitted the Necromancers, she couldn't have—"

" They attacked the Fort. Your mother rushed there to help." Mirwak told Col sadly. " She fought bravely, but there were too many Necromancers. She was looking for you."

" She can't be dead!" Col shrieked, stumbling up the hill towards Frost, " I'm not going to believe it until I see her. Did you find her? Or is she just missing?" Col did not wait for an answer, instead swinging himself up to Frost and urging the mare into a fast gallop away from the valley.

" Col! Don't!" Goth cried, and Inflar rushed to Flame. " You can't see her!"

Col was not going to listen. He urged his horse faster, and Frost obeyed. Barren land whipped past them as they went, the air hissing in their ears. They soon arrived at the Fort, but they might as well have been running on air, for the Fort looked like everywhere else.

There were Mages there though, Mages opening the ground to reveal bodies. Mages lifting wrecks from the flattened ground, Mages weeping over dead children, dead fathers, dead mothers. Col flung himself from his horse and hurried to one of the Wizard Masters.

" Kende!" He shouted, desperate now, " Master Kende, please, tell me where my mother is, that she's not here—"

Kende turned around. The old man's nose had dried blood on it, there were bruises on his face and blood in his hair. His eyes were sad and solemn as he faced the boy.

" She's gone Cobadra." He said at last. " She fought valiantly."

" She's not." Col insisted, though his will was faltering. " She's not until I see her. Where is she? You know where she is, right? She's not dead, she's probably just unconscious, a little bit of magic might, might—"

" Col!" In shouted, jumping from his horse, " We saw her, Col, you can't go! You can't see her!"

" Why not!" Col cried, out of his wits by now, " She is my mother! She is my _Mother!_" He whirled about, scanning the bodies, running into the tents, looking at the injured. In, alarmed, rushed after him, but could not catch up to the distraught boy. The other Mages did not stop him, too engrossed in their own misery. They hurried out of his way, or cursed at him as he went. Then the young Mage halted in front of a bed, and In slowed as well, knowing all was lost.

Aquila lay with all the bloom of a rotting mummy. Her face was so marred it looked hardly a face at all—in fact, it would hardly be a head. Hair seemed to grow out and then grow back into the skin, melting into what should have been the neck. The only reason why Col was able to recognize her was because of that ring on her finger, the only appendage that was not burned or charred in some way. Aquila always wore it, she never took it off no matter what.

Col froze, and couldn't seem to move for a long time. The world halted around him and darkened, leaving only him with that atrocious thing, that thing that use to be his loving mother, the mother that was all but blood with him. It was amazing that the Mages recognized it as a corpse at all. It was disgusting and gruesome, a cruel paradox to her living beauty.

Col could not stand it.

" She's not, I can bring her back," He turned wild eyes on In, and the red-haired boy saw a hint of madness in it, " I have the powers of a Necromancer, they say that Necromancers can revive the dead, I can bring her back, I just have to straighten her out!"

" Col!" In hissed, not entirely understanding. Col, a Necromancer? " Col, what madness is this! You can't bring her back! Look at her!"

Col was already reversing the physical damage. The face reshaped itself, the hair reformed. In minutes, Aquila lay there as if sleeping, no longer the gruesome corpse it was. Mages stared in surprise at this work of Necromancy, as Col chanted words of reversal.

Sensing danger, In hurriedly began draining Col, trying to drain his Necromancer's powers. Col paid no heed, chanting and chanting…

But Aquila, though young and beautiful, remained dead as Col had found her. The Mages were becoming uncomfortable and starting to throw dirty glances at Col. Col collapsed, exhausted and hopeless. As In moved to shield him, the boy buried his face in his hands, and sobbed like a child.

oO

" It was the only reason why we survived a direct hit." Goth was unbraiding Col's hair and running his hands through it, trying to calm the distraught lad. " Col used his Necromancy powers, and the Necromancers recognized it and left us alone. It was too late for her though."

In was glad that his family was safe like Goth's. Mirwak brought a tray of tea and In took it, feeling guilty that he was glad Col was the one to suffer.

" You saved our lives Col." Goth's mother told the boy softly. " We owe you our debt."

" You also owe us an explanation, why you didn't tell us you were a Necromancer," Goth tried to lighten the mood, " And if there's anything else you didn't tell us."

" Why couldn't I save her?" Col asked, starting to tremble, even while Goth tried to suppress them. " I thought Necromancers can revive the dead."

" It's just a theory, Col." Goth's mother answered gently. " And only powerful Necromancers can do it."

Col began wailing, and In used his Enchanter abilities to soothe his friend. Goth's mother rubbed circles on Col's back silently, knowing no words would help.

" I still don't get it," In turned to her, " Why did they attack us like that?"

" You know things have been tense for years now." Mirwak answered for her. " It's not really clear why. The Elves were no help either, they accuse the Mages and Clerics of taking over their land. The Clerics and Mages blame each other on little accidents, and I guess yesterday was the last straw for them."

Col stood up abruptly and marched towards the door.

" Where are you going?" Goth got to his feet immediately, alarmed.

" To them."

" What?"

" They didn't follow the rules. They used magic before the honorable sword ritual." Col's eyes were dark. " I'm going to kill them."

" You against all the Druids and the Necromancers?" In cried, " That's madness!"

" I am mad." Col answered. " I lost my parents once. I was young then, I couldn't do anything. Now I could have done something and I still lost her."

" Col, none of this is your fault, you didn't know, you couldn't have done anything, and you _can't _go out there!" Goth cried, but Col was already out.

In summoned his staff. " Halt!"

" No." Col swung his staff around. " I can't rest until they're dead. They've gone too far. You saw her! You all saw her, how she looked like, and if it weren't for me, she would still be looking like that."

" Col, please see reason—"

" Reason?" Col cried incredulously, " Since when have things been reasonable? They attacked us and massacred us and mutilated the dead. I am a Necromancer! I am a Druid! The Blue Oracle saw me and knew I was a mix of all! I will not be merciful!"

" Neither will they!" In shouted, following the raging Mage, Cleric, whatever he was, " You think they'll let you kill them just because you're one of them?"

" I don't expect them to."

" Col, what do you want us to do?" Goth tried to reason with him for the last time. Col turned around, not understanding.

" We swore to be brothers Col." Goth went on. " We were going to perform the ritual when we all are fifteen years old. What if they kill you Col? What if they mutilate you the way they mutilated _her? _Do you think In and I would be able to stand that?" Col paused uncertainly. " We can't right you the way you righted your mother, Col. We love you, we swore to protect you. What do you want us to do?"

In stepped up to Col, who didn't move. " Col, listen to us. The Mages will not let the Clerics trample us like savages. We will fight back. You don't have to fight alone, and you don't have to fight now. We will fight together one day. Don't do this."

Col wavered and the staff disappeared in his hand. In raised his own staff.

" _Do not leave on foolish whims._" He said, weaving his wizardry over his friend. " _Banish this madness and see reason. There is light yet._"

There was a soft glow on the staff, and Col visibly calmed. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the artificial peace settle in him. Then he opened his eyes.

" I'm sorry."

" There is no need." Goth answered. " You were distraught, like many were. Come into the house."

Col followed his friends inside.

" About this Necromancy thing," In confronted Col as they sat down, " Why didn't you tell us you were a Necromancer?"

" And apparently a Druid," Goth added, " I thought it was impossible."

Col hesitated. " The Blue Oracle said I had all the powers of each spellcaster."

" How is that possible?"

" I don't know." Col sighed, shuddering, while In again steadied his magic to soothe him. " It might have something to do with…with me being a mortal at first."

" Probably." In nodded. " But why didn't you tell us?"

" The first time I saw a ghost it wasn't a good experience." Col answered quietly, remembering how that time, his mother was there. " Mother…Mom was…Mom was a Sorceress, and you know how they are with…with Necromancers. I didn't want to be a Necromancer. I didn't want to be a Cleric. And then, and then after…after I realized my powers are still growing anyway, even without training, I didn't want to tell because…I didn't know what you'll think."

" Well now you do." Goth frowned. " We're both mad at you, you know."

" I know."

" Because you didn't tell us in the beginning." In followed Goth's words, making Col look up. " We could have protected that secret of yours from the others. Now, after that show you put up back at the…Fort, everyone knows."

Col suddenly paled. " The Fort. I used…"

" You did." Goth said seriously. " I don't think you can go back. I don't think you should go back. Who knows what they will think, perhaps they would believe you were a spy."

Col sighed.

" You should study Necromancy." In nodded. " Necromancy, Druidism, perhaps even Elf-magic. You can't stay here."

" I will not study Necromancy!"

" You have to." In pointed out. " You know it will overwhelm your other abilities if you don't learn how to control it, and," He interrupted Col's protest, " It will help you with avenging for your mother."

Col hesitated uncertainly. " You're right. I should—"

" We go with you."

" What?"

" I agree." Mirwak nodded. " It's not safe for you all here. You should leave this place."

" We swore to be blood brothers, did we not?" Goth pointed out. " Well, whatever training you go through, we'll be there to help. But first we have to gather your things. You can't go back, who knows what the others might say if they see you, so we'll have to go for you."

" You'll have to bring the library." Col said quietly.

" Of all the things you should have thought of you think about books?"

" Who knows what we'll encounter." Col answered. " And…Mom and I use to spend so much time together there…"

The two friends hesitated. Goth looked at his mother. " Alright, we'll find some way to do it. Take care of him, Mom."

Goth's mother nodded. She sat down beside Col, who was shuddering again. The grief was too real.

Goth and In left for Aquila's dwelling.

oO

Goth said his goodbyes to his parents, who were more reluctant to let him leave now that he was actually leaving, while Col and In, who already said his goodbyes, adjusted the bags on the horses.

" If you need anything," Mirwak told his son, " Look for the Oracles. They are the only Clerics who would help unconditionally."

" Alright Father." Goth nodded, and mounted his horse. " I guess this is it."

" Be careful, all of you." Mirwak's wife called. " And make sure to keep an eye out."

" We will." The trio started off.

They started at a gallop, wasting no time. The strips of barren land soon gave way to trees, where they finally slowed. Tiny faeries pollinated the flowers with butterflies, and above, mystical creatures called to them. Col clutched the bag that held the books of the library, which Goth had conveniently shrunk. He bit his lip, things could have been worse. At least his friends were happy. He should be glad for that.

Somehow, he wasn't though. Col shut his eyes. The familiar pain of loss washed over him. He felt like he was sinking, drowning, drowning—

" Col," A hand was laid against his arm. Col looked up, to see In looking at him with concern. He gave a shaky smile in return, clutching the bag even tighter.

" You'll pull through this." In told Col. " We'll help you pull through this."

Col nodded, and was glad he had such good friends.

" We'll have to change our uniform," Goth told the other two, " And our hair."

" Aw," In groaned, " It takes so long to braid them and now we have to take them off?"

" At least to the point where they don't recognize us as Mages." Goth answered. " Unless you want them to hang us over a fire on a spit."

Col had to smile. His friends always brought a smile to his lips, no matter what. " We can help each other unbraid."

" More like help you unbraid." In laughed. " Your hair is a terror to behold."

" It's not my fault!" Col protested, " I did not choose to be a mix of all…things."

The mood was sullen again. Goth tugged at Col's hair. " First thing, the ribbons." He told Col, changing the topic back to what it was. " We can't have them thinking we're Sorcerers, after all."

" I wonder why the girls like this." Girls wear the exact same thing as boys, even if they look different. It was a character of equality; everyone is capable of doing everything and allowed to do everything the other gender does. Col scowled. Maybe if girls like doing their hair so much, they should have more knots in their hair.

Goth leaned back. " In will have to do your other side, undoing hair on a horse, especially someone else's hair, is rather awkward." He emphasized this by rubbing his back. Col had to smile again.

In finished with Col's other side. " Goth's right, but at least now you're officially a mix of Enchanter and Wizard."

" It's Goth's turn, after all, Sorcery is more hated I guess." Col slowed his horse down so Goth and he could change places. He then understood why undoing someone's hair on a horse is awkward.

_Mom always did my hair, even when I was old enough to do it myself._ Col sighed, the pain returning. Sensing this, Goth quickly pressed it down for him. Col smiled gratefully.

After everyone finished with the hair, the group halted, dismounting to change out of their robes and putting on those fit for travel. Thus dressed, they continued on the road again for a few more hours, Col's despair successfully healing in silence thanks to the efforts of his friends.

When night fell, the group halted in a small glade and made a fire. The night was cold, but the fire was warm. Col ate the bread and meat with little appetite, but when he laid down to sleep, he felt the warm presence of Goth at one side, In taking watch, and felt that even if everything had gone wrong, he was glad his friends were still there with him.

" Make sure to wake me up when it's my turn." He told Goth.

A snort. " Go to sleep, rascal." In chuckled. Col smiled, and shut his eyes. Somehow he knew they were going to let him sleep the rest of the night.


	6. The World Outside

Child of Spellcasters

The World Outside

It turned out, Goth and In did allow Col to sleep through the night without waking. Col wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or grateful.

" I am not helpless you know." He protested as they put out the embers after a quick breakfast.

" You were sleeping so peacefully." Goth took this opportunity to tease him, " Sleeping like a _babe_, you were—"

Col thwacked Goth's head, smiling. " You're a scoundrel."

" Aye, I am." Goth sighed in mock resignation. Col pulled his hair back and tied it together, before packing his things and mounting his horse.

oO

Goth kept a steady eye on Col as he scanned the area for any threats. He could tell even with his and In's efforts, Col was still suffering. It couldn't be helped, magic cannot solve everything. He just hoped that Col would heal soon; heal as much as can be healed, at least.

The horses snorted to each other, Myst prancing and Flame grunting in annoyance. In suddenly held a hand out, signaling the others to stop. Frost and Myst halted.

" What do you sense?" Goth asked, reaching out with his Enchanter abilities as well. Col, a little too troubled to concentrate, settled for waiting for the others.

" Something is in the woods." In answered. " Something older than us, and perhaps more experienced and powerful. I think it senses us here."

" We might need you Col, do you think you're up to it?" Goth asked.

" Of course." Col looked a little offended. " I'm not useless."

" We didn't say you were." Goth answered. " Come on, let's hope it's not interested in us."

They rode on, but after a moment, Col whispered to In,

" I sense it too."

" Don't draw your weapons, it's probably harmless." Goth warned the others. They nodded.

" It's following us though."

" Hopefully it's just curious."

" We are too young for this."

Col suddenly tightened. In stiffened as well.

" Run." Col warned Goth.

" What?"

" He's right. Run!" In kicked Flame. " _Jia!"_

" _Jia!"_

" _Jia!"_

The horses sped off. They dashed forward, Col looking back to see a gray horse following them.

" Halt!" A voice called. " I mean you no harm!"

The three friends slowed, finally stopping, and turned around, their senses alert. The stranger was wearing a gray cloak that covered his face, a quiver of arrows, and a bow. A gleam revealed the hilt of a sword at his belt. The stranger threw off his hood, revealing an aristocratic face with his hair tied back but a silver circlet around his head. Gray eyes, aged with wisdom, glittered under brown eyebrows.

" An Oracle, no doubt the Silver Oracle." Col blinked at his friends. " What is he doing here? I thought Oracles like to stay stationary."

" We do." The Silver Oracle answered. " And I am here because this is near the borders of my dwelling."

" Oh." The three young friends faltered. " We did not mean to trespass." Goth said quickly.

" And you did not, you have not arrived yet." The Silver Oracle answered. " I know who you are, I know what you mean to do. I wish to offer you hospitality at my dwelling, and also perhaps, to unlock what lays dormant for some time," This was directed toward Col. At the sight of dubious expressions, the Oracle continued. " Fear not, I am a close friend of the Blue Oracle, who lives in your area. No harm shall come to you, this I vow, in the name of all that has passed and all that will come."

" Alright." Col nodded, accepting this vow. " We will come."

" Are you sure Col?" Goth asked.

" He means us no harm, and the vow is acceptable." In answered. " And I want to know how powerful an Oracle you are."

Col looked at In in surprise, but In only smiled at him.

oO

The Silver Oracle's shrine was very different from the Blue Oracle's, because it looked more like a shrine. The feeling of unearthliness bothered the Mages a little, though In and Col suffered undoubtedly less than Goth, who had no Cleric blood in him at all.

" Come, make yourselves at home." The Silver Oracle gestured. " Here none but the worthy step through, and you will find peace and rest here."

Col did not mention they had only been traveling for a day, but he suspected that the words were meant more for him than for his friends, and more for his soul than for his body. He followed the Silver Oracle, and his friends followed in turn. They keep by each other, after all.

The Silver Oracle left them to their own devices. Cobadra sat down on the bed. They were all sharing one room, with a large table and several chairs.

" He knows we're coming." Goth was not impressed.

" Of course. He's an Oracle. And one of the most powerful Oracles at that."

" It sounds like he's going to give you training, Col."

" How can you train someone to become an Oracle?"

" I wouldn't know." In shrugged. " I was never ' trained'. He said unlock, specifically. Maybe your powers haven't woken yet?"

" Maybe. The most I've done is Enchantments, Sorcery, Wizardry, and a little bit of Necromancy." Col swallowed. " Maybe if I'm trained in Necromancy, I can bring her back."

" Let's hope so." In's tone suggested that he doubted it. Col himself was dubious.

oO

The Silver Oracle came to Col that night. Though Goth and In wanted to go with him, they stayed behind. The Cleric led the boy to a chamber. On the walls hung circlets of all types.

" Oracles are rare." He said. " Like Sorcerers we are few in number. It is custom to create a circlet for new, young children of our kind."

" You have made one." Col said quietly.

" You were difficult, Blue Dragon." The Oracle answered. " In you lie the hopes of all races."

" What do you mean?" Col asked.

" A war is coming." The Silver Oracle answered. " In it many will die, and many who live will die as well. You have prolonged the delay with your coming, but you have seen yourself the horrors of war. It has begun. Our wills are failing. Discontent upon discontent fueled fury on all sides. But in you," He stepped forward, raising his hand to touch the boy's forehead, " There lie the powers of all that is magic in this world. You are the link, you are the soul, you are the very core that was created when this world was born. You alone can make them understand how they too, are connected."

Col hesitated. " How?"

" That is not my place to say." The Oracle answered. " But I can tell you, the wind blows hard upon the road. The most one can do, is show you the way." A cobalt circlet, lined with sapphires and inscriptions, appeared in the Cleric's hands.

Col understood. It was custom for Oracles to wear circlets, only because circlets awaken their power. Once it is woken, they do not need the circlet anymore, but most prefer to. Now the Oracle wanted Col to awaken his own powers. All he had to do, is take the circlet.

Somehow, Col was afraid. He didn't want to know. Will there be more deaths like that of his mother? Of course there will be. What if Goth and In die?

The Oracle was waiting. Col took the circlet and guided it to his head. As soon as it settled, he saw it. Deserts, sand, the world of his dreams at night. Visions of the Pharaoh swirled, the axe that ended it all and started it all. Several paths seemed to swirl as they gathered to make a future. Col opened his eyes. He was back in the real world.

" You may go." The Silver Oracle told him. And he went. He did not speak to his friends when they questioned him. He simply lowered his head down upon Goth's pillow, circlet and all, and shivered. After some hesitation, Goth lied down beside him, but even his friend's presence did not ease Col's troubled mind.

oO

The Silver Oracle did not appear the next morning, but nevertheless Col insisted they pack and start leaving. Thanks to Goth, whose confident presence drove away most of the nightmares, Col slept rather well that night. Goth, unfortunately, did not.

" He frightened you, somehow, didn't he?" Goth demanded. " With that new circlet of yours. What did he make you see?"

Col adjusted the saddle on Frost, refusing to answer.

" Col, please, tell us." In tried to reason with him.

" I saw my own death, alright?" Col finally snapped. " And despite all things, seeing that, and how things will be, how things have been, is not comforting!"

His friends were silent after that. Col went on, " And the worst part is, I can't change it. I already set the course when I agreed to come over to Goth's dwelling. If I had just gone home, Mom wouldn't have been killed, and I wouldn't be in this god-forsaken place trying to learn the crafts I hate!"

Frost nuzzled Col, trying to comfort him.

" There are many forks in a road, Col." In said after a moment. " Oracular visions merely show the way, not where it leads."

" I also saw my past." Col paused. " In the mortal realm."

" Oh, that." Goth sighed. " It just keeps getting worse and worse, doesn't it?"

" I knew I was killed somehow." Col answered. " I didn't know I died…that shamefully."

" Don't think on it." Goth answered. " You know if you believe it too much, you'll inevitably follow it."

" Kind of hard when you're an Oracle." Col mounted his horse.

" Shouldn't we at least bid farewell to the Silver Oracle?" In asked.

" He knows." Col answered. " And you won't find him today. He wants us to leave now, because if we don't things might get worse."

In mounted his horse at that. Goth followed in turn, and the three trotted out of the fenced field and onto the road that leads to the main path.

" What are we to do when we meet the rest of the Clerics?" Goth asked.

" I am to say I am a Dragon Oracle." Col answered. " You two are my brothers, with little magic."

" Oh, now we have little magic. I like that!" Goth snorted. " But if they find out we're not actually brothers—"

" We'll have to do the ritual soon." Col answered. " That way they won't know. In has an advantage; he is part Oracle, and Oracles are the only ones with suitable relationships with all other spellcasters. I don't know what to do with you though, we'll have to see. If they find out you're a Sorcerer, we'll have to leave immediately."

" How soon do we have to perform the ritual?" In asked. Mages prefer to do the ritual at least when they're fifteen, because at that time they are given the privilege of making such decisions themselves. All three were apprehensive at the thought of doing it too early.

" We're less than a year younger than necessary." Col pointed out. " It's not like we're doing this when we are ten."

" That's true." Goth nodded. " How far is the nearest Cleric community?"

" A week's journey." In answered.

" That far?"

" They like to keep away from Mages, remember?" Col pointed out. " A week's journey is the fastest. If it rains, or something happens, or if the Elves suddenly come along, which I doubt, it will take longer."

" Beautiful." Goth sighed. " Now we have to worry about Elves too."

" And other creatures, like trolls, gargoyles, possibly vampires,"

" Vampires?"

" Vampires?"

" They do exist."

" We're going to encounter _vampires?_"

" And I thought Necromancers were bad."

" I'm not saying we're going to." Col sighed in exasperation. " It's just a possibility, if we take a wrong turn."

" That is very comforting." In said dryly. " I suppose you know where the wrong turns are."

" No."

" So you're saying we really might encounter vampires. Gargoyles are okay with me, but _vampires._ Who suck blood, and move around at night. We're going to meet those."

" I didn't say we were."

" How high of a chance do we have of meeting them then?"

Col hesitated. " Pretty high."

" Oh, there we go." Goth slapped Myst's neck, exciting an annoyed snort from the stallion. " I'll _really _sleep easier at night."

" I'm really sorry." Col sighed. " That's also why I'm in a bad mood this morning."

" Oh come, at least we can watch out for those better." Goth suddenly turned a worry eye on Col. " How were you going to die?"

" How _did _you die?" In asked.

" I died naked by an axe of an executioner with thousands of Egyptian peasants cursing at me." Col answered flatly. The other two flinched. " The axe which cut my head off, and was meant to be held up for everyone to spit at."

In cursed and Goth looked sick. " No wonder you have nightmares." The latter commented. " Why did they kill you?"

" I was an idiot." Col answered, and the others realized he didn't want to elaborate.

" Surely this time it's much better?" In said hopefully.

" I'm going to fall into Firemouth." Col answered.

" _The _Firemouth?" In cried, " The deadliest volcano in this realm? How would you manage that?"

" Fighting against a Necromancer." Col answered. " Or some kind of Druid that looks like a Necromancer. He or she will fall in, and drag me down with her. Him."

" Then I guess we will just have to help you avoid Firemouth then," In said doubtfully.

" And afterwards, I'll enter the mortal realm some thousand years later, lose my parents again, and become ' Seto Kaiba'."

" Surely it would be much better, if you don't go to the Realm of the Dead?" Goth blinked.

" I wouldn't know. I couldn't see that far." Col answered.

" Odd. You seem to have seen far enough already." In pointed out. " Oracles can't see the end. If you saw all the way to your future self, then at least that means your demise at Firemouth is just part of the way."

" That brings me _great_ comfort." Col grunted sarcastically. " Dying at Firemouth is not enough. I have to go through more."

" Maybe it won't be so bad." Goth rubbed Col's shoulder from his mount. " Tell me, do we still live?"

" You certainly did after I died." Col answered, smiling a little. " At least you two seem fine. Unless you two get yourselves into trouble, you should be immortal like the Enchanters."

" Then we'll come looking for you when you become this ' Seto Kaiba'." In promised. " If you don't hide from us, that is. Make yourself noticeable. Make yourself famous. Make yourself rich. That way, even Goth could find his way to you."

" Are you insulting my navigation skills?" Goth exclaimed, rising to the bait.

" Goth," In sighed with mock resignation, " Your performance at the Cave Tunnels did not show much promise."

" I will have you know," Goth countered, " That it was you who held the map!"

" I will have _you _know," In responded in turn, " That it was _you _who insisted we should go straight ahead instead of turning!"

Col started laughing at the antics of the two, before the two turned on him.

" Col, what do _you _think?"

Col nearly fell of Frost. " I—I'm staying out of this."

" No, you are the judge. The tiebreaker. Tell Goth how poorly he finds his way."

" How poorly _I _find my way? We got out of the tunnels, did we not?"

" After about four hours of wandering about!" Col sniggered at this, having to nod at the truth of that. " The map showed the way that would have taken us half as long!"

The friends bickered amongst each other, Col quite forgetting his premonition, and several hours passed in that way. When they settled down for a break, it was early in the afternoon.

" Should we do it now?" In asked. Col hesitated, and nodded.

" We have to say it at the exact same time." Goth reminded them all. The three each took out a dagger, and stepped in a circle.

" Remember the words?" Col smirked at Goth.

" We say it all the time." Goth frowned. " Are you saying I'm forgetful?"

" Maybe." Col grinned slyly. " But come, we can argue later. Let us begin."

Each one cut a long horizontal line on both hands. Levitating the daggers so they touch, and clasping each other's hands so the lines are perpendicular to each other, they stood in a circle.

" _We, children of spellcasters,_

_Take this, this solemn vow,_

_Though not to be on the same day born,_

_To be on the same day die,_

_Link our souls and our blood,_

_Brothers in life and Brothers in death."_

There was a loud crack and a wind blew about them. The three figures glowed a bright white, chasing all other colors away. Col felt magic and thoughts pour through him, and shadows of voices whispered in his mind. They chanted it again, and another loud crack sounded. They let go of each other and reached further, so their arms braided against one another, and chanted the verse once more.

It was suddenly over, and the three opened their eyes, not noticing that they had closed them.

" That was exhilarating!" Goth exclaimed. " I guess this means we can help you with your nightmares now."

Col healed his hands. There was no need to leave the wound; the ritual was already performed. The daggers hovered back to their owners, the blood having been cleansed since it was sent to the rest of the realm. Sliding his into its sheath, Col looked up, checking to see how his friends were doing.

" I can sense you more clearly." In observed. " So that's what Sorcery feels like."

" There's also a problem of others sensing that we are Mages." Col pointed out. " We should change our names, in case they figure out who we are. I'm already the Dragon Oracle, but I need training in Necromancy and Druidism, so…I'll be called Azuri, to make it easier."

" Cobalt, Azure, Cobadra, Azuri, I think it will do." In nodded. " I can be called Burgun, for red, and Goth can be Shad, just so it's not too conspicuous."

" Shad?" Goth tested the word on his tongue. " I'll never get use to your names."

" You'll have to." In said exactly what Col was thinking. " Az needs his training, and if you want to stay by him, you'll have to get your own name too."

" _Az_?" Col frowned. " What kind of name is _Az?_"

" You offered to be Azuri."

" Please don't change it Az," Goth wasted no time making fun of Col, " Really, otherwise I'll betray you."

" I can be really cruel," In challenged, " And call you ' Azzy'."

Col saw the danger. " Az would be fine, Burg."

" I suppose I deserved that." In sniffed.

Goth snorted. " Really, Azuri is a lot better than Burgun. You should change that name."

" I suppose. If only to prevent Col from calling me Burg." In blinked. " How about Yan?"

" What kind of name is Yan?" Col asked dryly. Goth said something like that at the same time.

" It's better than Burg."

" I suppose it is. But they will see through that. They'll know you at least faked your name."

' We're supposed to be weak spellcasters, correct?" In pointed out. " That would surely be noticeable when we were young. And we might get renamed anyway. You might be officially named the Dragon Oracle, or the Mage Master. It's just a child's name."

Col shrugged. " Suit yourself. I'm going down by the stream to fill some water, I'll be right back."

The stream was fairly wide but shallow, and ran swiftly down. Tasting the water, Col filled the water skins with it, and rose. He looked in the water.

" So you sacrificed yourself, Pharaoh." He said in Egyptian. " Condemned your soul to eternity in an earthly prison. How…fitting." He reached forward, almost as if he wanted to touch the water in front of him. " It won't help me though."

Turning around, knowing that he could never turn his back on the Pharaoh as long as he is destined to be Seto Kaiba, Col stepped over roots and twigs, heading to his friends, who were piling firewood.

_Mother._ He thought to himself. _You knew all along, didn't you? You knew this, that's why you never let me go to the Fort too often. You've been protecting me all this time._

Goth made to suppress the melancholy, but at his gentle advance Col blocked it. He needed the pain. If only to distract himself from the reality that lies ahead.


	7. The Cleric's Tower

Child of Spellcasters

The Cleric's Tower

Miron was a Necromancer, and not a weak one. Like most Necromancers, he was pure, and like most Necromancers, he hated Sorcerers. His darling sister, Chanta, loved Sorcerers as much as he did. They were the key people in the attack against the Mage's Fort, and what a fort it was.

Oddly, though Oracles were never ones to side with any race, the Wraith Oracle wasn't too pleased with what transpired. In fact, she had voiced that opinion many times before the attack. After the attack, wisely, she kept her thoughts to herself, but occasionally a consulting Cleric could hear her muttering about disaster to come.

Disaster! From _Mages_? Clearly, even the Oracles underestimate the power of the dead. Vengeful spirits of old eager to take the living with them, are powerful and merciless when summoned to the brutal task, and Sorcerers, for all their boastful powers of creating magic, ( which, Miron had to admit, was quite remarkable, as without Sorcerers Necromancers wouldn't be who they were, but that didn't mean they had to like them) even they cannot withstand the wrath of the dead.

It was two weeks after the attack on the Mage's Fort. Though Necromancers were _undoubtedly _the more powerful of the two, the Sorcerers, with their Enchanter and Wizard friends, had wounded the Cleric numbers _slightly, _and killed a _small _number. Currently, Miron was doing his best to help the wounded. The idea that Necromancers can revive the dead was not a myth, but there hasn't been one that powerful for nearly fifteen hundred years. Too bad, they could use one.

" The wounded are recovering nicely," Arleen announced. She was a Druid, and a great one at that, " It looks to me like the Wraith Oracle was wrong after all."

" I should like to think that." Miron knew the power of the Wraith Oracle, and also knew it would be wise not to belittle her too much.

" Strangely," Arleen went on, " She seems more distressed than ever after the attack."

" Oh?" Could it be that the Wraith Oracle is actually sympathizing for the Mages?

" She kept on wailing that we are doomed, she is doomed, everyone here is doomed."

" That woman must have gone mad." Miron frowned. " Certainly, the Mages will strike back, but—"

" She did not mention the Mages really." Arleen answered. As she went out, Miron followed her. " She seems more concerned with what we're going to do next."

" Oh?"

" Too bad she didn't elaborate," Arleen went on, " I have absolutely no idea what she meant by that."

" Well," Miron shrugged. " Perhaps her pride was hurt. Who knows. In the meantime, we may hold a feast for the success of our…project."

" That _would _be appropriate." Arleen agreed. " Where is your sister?"

" Preparing for the said feast." Miron grinned.

There was a sudden yell, starting a loud bout of murmurs. Miron took leave of Arleen to go out and inspect.

Three young children, at most thirteen or fourteen, had ridden into the Tower. Miron frowned. Who are they?

There was a black-haired, blue-eyed boy, not very tall but very big, riding on a rather proud black stallion. Something in his stature reminded Miron uncomfortably of an arrogant Sorcerer, but no Sorcerer, however foolish, would enter Cleric territory, especially the Cleric's Tower. To the opposite side, a demonic-like youth, with flaming red hair and burning red eyes, glared at everyone from his own flaming red horse. The appearance of this boy was so alarming that Miron almost wanted to test to make sure he's not a ghost.

If he really wanted to test them, however, he would test the one in the middle. Brown hair, clear blue eyes, with a face like a solemn angel. This boy was tall and fair, with a lean frame and a certain mix of frailty and power about him. Around his head, he wore a circlet of sapphires and a strange metal.

_He must be an angel._ Miron felt entranced by this one's beauty, but also slightly worried. What are these three doing here?

" I am Miron, also called the Black Vulture." Miron introduced himself, stepping up past the guards. The three boys dismounted out of courtesy.

" I am called Azuri." The angel said, and Miron was instantly mesmerized by his voice. " These are my brothers, Shad and Yan. I am a part Necromancer, part Druid, and part Oracle, traveling abroad to seek training from such masters. My brothers accompany me." He did not elaborate any further.

" How far have you come, Azuri?" Miron inquired. " You speak our tongue well."

" I have studied ten different tongues in my youth," Azuri replied, " And had learned to speak them comprehensively. As to how far I have come, some bird's flight away, for the areas I have crossed are in too tense an atmosphere for one to study in."

" I see." This made sense. Miron gestured to the Tower, which was not really a tower but a collection of tall buildings, " You are welcome here, Azuri, Shad, and Yan. I'm afraid the situations here will become tense quite soon, but I hope it would still be comfortable enough for you to further your craft. How old are you, Azuri?"

He should have paid more attention to the other two, but Azuri was too beautiful and too strange a figure to be ignored. Azuri did not seem to mind, and the others did not voice any objections.

" I am fourteen." Azuri answered. " Though I fear I did not learn of my abilities other than Oracular visions until recently, so I am far behind."

" Ah, but you seem to show promise of mind. I am sure we can remedy that particular problem. But come, you appear to have been traveling long. Arleen!"

Arleen came out, acknowledging the three briefly, before awaiting her orders.

" Take these young lads up to the fourth tower." Miron smiled benignly, " Give them new clothes, food and water, and make sure they feel at home. There is to be a feast tonight, Azuri, and I hope you and your brothers would like to join us?"

" A feast?" Azuri blinked. " Why, of course. May I ask to what occasion is this…"

" We have recently launched an attack against the…unruly Mages." Miron answered. If he had been paying attention to the two beside Azuri, he would have noticed their eyes flashing in anger, but Azuri's eyes showed nothing but surprise. The boy nodded.

" I take it that it was successful?"

" Of course. The Mages suffered great casualties—we on the other hand, did not suffer so terribly. They were rather ignorant by nature, so we had an element of surprise. But come, I will tell you this at the feast."

Azuri bowed in gratitude, and his two brothers followed suit, if a little stiffly.

oO

The Wraith Oracle came during the end of the preparations.

" I hear we have visitors." She said to Miron. Chanta frowned at the Oracle.

" You ought to know already." Miron answered.

" Perhaps." Said she. " His name is Azuri?"

" Yes." Miron frowned. What is she up to now?

" I take it that you have taken quite a fancy to him." The Wraith Oracle went on.

" Perhaps."

" He has more potential for magic than his potential for beauty." The Oracle answered. " I suggest that, if you find him a master, you find him a good one."

" No more words of our coming doom?" Miron could not resist taunting.

" You will get what will come." The Oracle's ageless eyes held no mirth. It was obvious she was hiding something, but Miron did not know of what nature and she apparently would not tell. " If the end does come, it would be of your doing. But why this child remains, see that he remains unharmed and well-trained."

" You seem to take a liking to him as well." Miron shifted. " Why is that?"

" Because I know what he will become." The Oracle answered sagely. " And this all Oracles will answer to, and say no more."

After she left, Miron was in a rather sour mood. Chanta noticed.

" What's this, the Black Vulture ruffled by a few words from a prophet?" She teased. " I see that this new child of yours has really caught your attention."

" Hm." Miron answered. " He is an interesting figure."

" One can't deny quite handsome too." Chanta countered laughingly. " He has a face of an angel-child, though perhaps not quite as innocent. Who do you plan to make his master?"

" I _am _the most powerful Necromancer, and I _do _need an apprentice." Miron answered. " As for Druidism, perhaps Aranol, or Gderl. Perhaps even Arleen."

Chanta laughed gaily, slapping her brother's shoulder, and left him.

oO

Azuri showed, as promised, with his brothers close by his side. Miron did not like the other two, especially not the redhead, and had caused them to sit separately, which they complied if a little reluctantly, while Azuri won the privilege and honor of sitting beside the Necromancer at the feast. After giving the required speech, congratulating all, including the wounded, Miron happily turned his attention to the young Oracle.

" Where have you come from, Azuri?" Miron asked.

" Very far to the North." Azuri answered vaguely, clearly implying he did not wish to talk about it.

" North?" Miron nodded with approval. " There are many good Necromancers there, few as we are in general. You were taught the Sword Dance?"

" Yes." Azuri nodded, and Miron found it odd that the boy had not smiled once thus far. " I have received training."

" Tomorrow I should like to test you, see how far you need to learn." Miron nodded. " In the morning then, before lunch. Is that well with you?"

" Of course." The boy replied. " My greatest thanks for your generosity, Black Vulture."

Miron was a little disappointed that Azuri called him by his formal name, but then found it appropriate. Miron _was _his senior, and Azuri _would _soon be his apprentice, even if the lad does not know it yet.

" No problem at all." He answered. " We Clerics should always help each other. I do wonder though, there are few mixed Clerics abroad. Who are your parents?"

" I do not know." Azuri answered. " I was adopted." He left it at that.

_Ah. I was wondering how this little one could be brother to those two._ Miron thought with satisfaction. _But if this is so, no wonder he does not want to speak of his past._

" If it is not too inconvenient," Azuri suddenly spoke, " I should like to know the customs of the rest of the Clerics. My brothers and I have led a secluded life, and unfortunately know too little of the outside world besides our visions."

" You are all Oracles then?"

" No." Azuri blushed. " Shad is not really a spellcaster, we are not sure what he is. His parents, by far, are true spellcasters, but the essence of magic seems to have died in him. Yan has some abilities in Oracular visions, but he is fairly weak."

" And you?" Miron set down the cup after he swallowed. " You are a true Oracle?"

Azuri hesitated. " Yes."

" Do you have a name?"

" I was named the Dragon Oracle."

" Dragon Oracle." Miron tilted his head to regard the boy. " Fitting name, I do not know why, but there is something about you that reminds me of a Dragon child. But why this name? Surely it could not simply be that."

" I do not know." Azuri answered. " Perhaps it was my love for dragons. Perhaps it was the dragons I have in my visions. I never thought it important enough to ask."

" Who named you this?"

" The Silver Oracle."

" The Silver Oracle? He is a powerful Oracle, to be sure." Miron was surprised. " But he's on the other side of the Tower."

" We missed the Tower at first," Azuri answered, " And were about to head to the Mage's. The Silver Oracle met us before we did and showed us the correct path."

" You have an interesting story to tell." Miron commented.

" It is rather unpleasant." Azuri answered. It was an obvious hint that he no longer wished to speak of it. Miron nodded in understanding.

Azuri ate very little, though Miron was not surprised given his rather thin frame. Azuri inquired about tomorrow's tryout.

" How am I to be tried, exactly?"

" I will ask a few other masters to spare their apprentices some time." Miron answered. " We'll see how far you are. Do not worry." He grinned. " We won't _kill _you."

Azuri managed a rather uncomfortable smile, before sipping some wine to cover his discomfort. Miron sighed inwardly. The boy was in a rather unfamiliar environment, after all.

oO

Chanta came to Miron after the feast, just after Miron had bid Azuri goodnight.

" You are being too obvious in your interest with him." She said disapprovingly. " You completely ignored the other two, and I doubt those boys appreciated it."

Miron raised his eyebrows. " What do you mean?"

" What do you mean, ' what do you mean'? You think they didn't notice?" His sister huffed. " Sitting them so far away from their brother, while you allow this child to sit next to you! And you never gave him an opportunity to talk to someone else besides you. It's a good thing the Druids understand, otherwise they would complain. Unless they don't understand," She eyed him critically.

" I do not have _those _tastes." Miron answered indignantly. " I did not have those ideas."

" Really?" Chanta sniffed. " Be sure that you don't. We don't need scandals around here, especially now that the Mages are undoubtedly preparing their own attacks on us."

Miron sighed.

" I did not think of him that way, Chanta."

" See that you don't." She warned.

Feeling less than satisfied now, Miron decided to sleep for now and worry about his annoying sister later.

oO

" I'm sure you'll do fine." Miron assured Azuri. " This is just a test, after all, not a competition."

Azuri had some reason to be nervous, Miron admitted. The Druid he must go against in Sword Dancing is a rather intimidating-looking boy, with a hooked nose and sharp green eyes. He is actually just as tall as Azuri was, but he is a lot bigger and stronger-looking in general. There was something about this one, whose name was Omi, that suggested he could snap someone's neck just by pinching it. Omi, however, is a rather gentle giant in most aspects, and as his master warned him that this was but a test, Miron was certain Azuri would not come to serious harm.

The two apprentices, or one that was soon to be an apprentice, bowed to each other, before assuming a fighting stance. Miron began observing with a critical eye. The boy's posture is very stable and balanced, at the same time light, promising quick movements.

There was a pause when each apprentice waited for the other to strike. Omi struck first, a vertical slash down that promised to slice the boy to pieces. Azuri blocked smoothly, pushing Omi back, and from there his movements became deadly fast. Miron observed with some joy that Azuri was as graceful in combat as he was in everything else so far. Unfortunately though, there were still some flaws, but for someone of Azuri's age, he really is quite adept.

The flaws were deadly though. Azuri was beginning to tire. Omi suddenly knocked Azuri's sword clean out, but the boy, not expecting it, connected that blow with another vertical slash that would have killed Azuri immediately. Azuri hurriedly clapped both hands over the blade and held it there. Omi had stopped as well.

Miron frowned and looked over at the two brothers. They seem a little surprised as well, in fact, very worried. Azuri was panting and sweat was rolling down his face. Omi retreated, sheathing his sword, and gave Azuri a hand. Azuri hesitated, before taking it and giving Omi a smile. The other masters nodded in approval.

" Omi is strong." Miron told Azuri when the boy came over to take a drink of water. " Though I have a feeling you normally don't tire so easily."

" I don't." Azuri frowned. " I usually last longer even in my weakest state. I'm not sure what just happened."

The brothers hurried over.

" What happened there?" Asked…was it Shad?  
" I don't know." Azuri answered. " I just felt dizzy for a moment, like someone hit me on the head."

" Well, it certainly was not Omi."

Miron frowned. Could it be that Azuri was ill? He doubted it; the boy had enough color to him.

" Are you good with the spear?" Miron asked.

" Not as good, I'm afraid." Azuri looked almost apologetically at Shad.

" That's alright. This is a test. Though I must say, it was rather worrisome earlier." Miron nodded.

Before Azuri faced his spear-opponent, Omi came to apologize.

" I must say though," The boy laughed, " That was the most fun I've ever had. Perhaps we can do it again sometime?"

Azuri smiled, and Miron noticed it was only with Omi that the angel child smiled his true smile. " I would like that, thanks."

Azuri wasn't quite as amazing with the spear, but he kept his grace, and appeared to be much better spirits than he had when he faced Omi.

Azuri was awfully bad at controlling anything but ghosts, which he did only moderately, and as for Druidism he seemed to have no experience whatsoever. There was promise though, and when the boys went back to their quarters, Miron went to his to ponder. He would definitely take Azuri for his apprentice in Necromancy, and several high reputed Druids wanted him as a student.

It should prove interesting.


End file.
